Some keep the Sabbath going to Church--
I keep it, staying at Home--
With a Bobolink for a Chorister--
And an Orchard, for a Dome--
Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice--
I just wear my Wings--
And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,
Our little Sexton--sings.
God preaches, a noted Clergyman--
And the sermon is never long,
So instead of getting to Heaven, at last--
I'm going, all along.
Dickinson says that many people go to church and practice various rituals to connect to God. She experiences God right outside of her home. She is alone except for her orchard, the choir of birds, and God. God preaches to her, and his sermon is never too long. She claims that nature, where she is away from mankind's distractions, is the best place to experience God. She believes that she doesn't have to wait for death to get to heaven. She is in heaven whenever she is in nature. This poem shows that the rituals that mankind makes for church can't compare to what God makes. This poem makes me wonder why more people don't have church outside. If God made nature, wouldn't that be the perfect place to worship him?
I like your idea about worshiping God outside. What better way to feel close to Him than be surrounded by his work? But then I remember that some Churches only have an expanse of dirty concrete outside their doors or would have difficulty getting infirm people out onto the grass. Someone might have a heat stroke, etc. People complicate everything.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Dickinson that religion can be an intensely personal thing without a preacher or fellow believers.
I couldn't agree more with you, Elisabeth.
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